an agonizing realization
by GingerGleek
Summary: Semi-sequel to 'Not So Empty', but can stand alone. Not slash; mentions of The Inns  Finn/Quinn . Rated for safety, no other reason. / "Dude," Matt says, "I think you should, like, talk to her or something."


_A/N: So, I have a tendency to let things just sit in my document manager until they expire. (Except my drabbles, which I clear out regularly.) And today, I saw that 'Not So Empty' had only 2 days left! And I was like: 'Woah, it's been that long? I need to write that sequel!' And it was like the writer's block just left and it flowed out._

_So, yes, this is a semi-sequel of sorts to my story 'Not So Empty', but it can stand alone._

_Not sure how good it is, but I hope you enjoy it!_

_-0-0-_

It's repetitive. It's standard. It's something that would get him kicked off the football team if he couldn't do it.

Throw the football. Catch the football.

Especially as the quarterback, even on a sucky team like WMHS'; they don't win a lot (or ever, really), but they aren't so incompetent that they can't complete that basic skill.

He could probably find something better to do. Matt probably could, too. But for now, he just needs to do something mindless and focus on it, so he doesn't have to think about _her_. Her shiny blonde hair, her baby doll dresses, her cross necklace, her bright green eyes, her delicate face, her adorable smile, her baby bump … the one that isn't there anymore.

(Especially that last thing.)

Because if he thinks about her (and her hair, and her necklace, etc.), he has to think about the bump. And what the bump is – _was_ … a baby; a baby that was supposed to be his, but never was and never can be.

And _damn it_! Because know he's thinking about her anyways, and – by extension – Drizzle. (She'll always be his Drizzle. Because when she's Beth, she isn't his at all; when she's Beth, she's Quinn's and Puck's.)

Ugh, and Puck.

How many times has Puck reminded him of 'bros before hoes'. Not that he thinks Quinn is a whore, but … ugh, so not the point. Point is: Puck broke the guy code. More importantly, he broke a friend code; a code that says that you do not sleep with your best friend's girl. And that's just not something he's able to get past; certainly not now, and maybe not in the future.

So, here he is, girlfriendless and best friendless. That's where Matt comes in; because maybe the guy doesn't know him like Puck does (still does even though they're not talking), but Finn doesn't hate his guts and that's really the main criteria for his friends right now. Besides, Matt's good to play video games with and toss around a football with, like right now; and Matt seems to understand that he just needs to do that kind of stuff. The stuff that requires just enough focus and thought to keep him occupied and his brain busy.

Even he's got his limits, though, and when he can't help but glance up at the bleachers for the fifth time despite how agonizing as it is to see her, even Matt can't hold his tongue.

"Dude," he says semi-quietly, considering the distance between them, as his taller companion catches the ball, "I think you should, like, talk to her or something."

"Who?" he asks as if he doesn't know exactly who the 'she' Matt's referring to is. He knows he's a terrible liar and a terrible actor, but he can't help but stall, because this is not a conversation he wants to have anytime soon … or _ever_.

Matt just shakes his head, deftly grabbing the ball out of the air and throwing it in a spiral arc back to him. "You _know_ who," he replies stubbornly, refusing to drop the subject. "I know she isn't your favorite person right now," Finn snorts, because is that the understatement of the year, or what, "but you can't just _not_ talk to her."

'Sure I can,' Finn thinks sullenly. 'What's stopping me?'

"Well, you _can_," Matt concedes as through reading his mind, "but you shouldn't. You're just bottling it up and letting it fester. Until you deal with it, you can't get over it and move past it," he tells him wisely, passing the ball back and hitting Finn on the head when he doesn't bother to catch it, instead giving Matt a 'What the fuck?' look. "My mom's a psychologist."

Finn just nods at that, remembering the fact, before picking up the ball and passing it back, rubbing his head gently where it had made (painful) contact.

"I don't think I _can_ talk to her yet," he says sheepishly when Matt throws him the ball and he makes a point to catch it carefully and not let it pass him by.

Matt sighs. "Look, I'm not saying that what she did wasn't wrong, because it totally was. But she wasn't trying to hurt you." He pauses for a second, not used to talking so much, but continuing again when Finn looks ready to cut in angrily. "Yeah, I know, she did anyways; but it's not like she slept with Puck to piss you off. And doesn't it mean something that she obviously wished you _were_ Beth's dad instead of him?"

Okay, so that's a point he hadn't really thought about before; and he's not sure what it means … but it sure means more than nothing.

"I just- it's still hard to be around her without yelling or, like … crying," he admits the same thing he had to Mr. Schue all those months ago before Sectionals, throwing the football a little (a lot) harder than before. (Matt doesn't mention the gesture, instead just nodding his head understandingly. He's probably talked more in the last few minutes than he has all week, and now he's content to just be silent again while Finn works through it all on his own.)

"I mean, even when she's not around I can't get her out of my head," he says (shaking his head and subconsciously proving the point) looking back to the bleachers. "And when she _is_ around … Ugh, why is this so effing hard?"

"Because it's high school," Matt replies a little jokingly, breaking his silence once again. "I don't know," he replies honestly with a small sigh, really thinking about; because this whole year has been kind of hard, for all of them (and much hard_er_ for a select few). And it honestly would have so much easier (or simpler, at least) if Mr. Schue had let Glee club go to the dogs. Quinn wouldn't have gotten pregnant by Puck, and … well, that's really the main thing. But he can say for certain that many of them wouldn't be as happy as they are now if Mr. Schue hadn't desperately strived to save the sinking ship that Glee was before New Directions was formed.

"But something I do know?" he continues, waiting until he's captured Finn's gaze again before passing him the football one last time, "Is that whether or not you want to or realize it, you still care for Quinn … and that eventually you're going to have to suck it up and talk to her and fix it, because it'll just keep sucking that much more if you don't." (It's more than one thing, but it doesn't matter; Finn doesn't seem to notice or care.)

He has a point, and Finn knows it. Doesn't mean he's going to work up the nerve to do anything about it anytime soon … but it means that, as he look up at Quinn once again where Kurt had joined her without him noticing (having only had eyes for her) and sees her crying in his makeshift-step-brothers embrace, he knows why he feels a pang in his gut.

It means that he knows it's more than just everything that's been haunting him since he found out The Truth. It means that suddenly, she's that much harder to ignore than she already was.

_-0-0-_

_Just a oneshot, adding it to Story Alert won't do you any good, sorry!_

_Please review, and let me know what you thought! Good, bad? Okay, awful?_


End file.
